


Grantaire The Abominable Snowman

by GEGabriels



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Merry Christmas, Sharing a Bed, Snow, abominable snowmen, lots of snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:08:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28332891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GEGabriels/pseuds/GEGabriels
Summary: “Grantaire brought a present for you, Enjolras,” Combeferre informed his friend, Enjolras blinking,“Oh, thanks,” He said, “I never got to give you my gift either, uh, hang on a sec,” He ran off, a few crashes heard from his room. Combeferre raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, instead taking a match from a box over the fireplace, and lighting the candles that were sitting on the mantel. It was already beginning to become dark outside, the sun slowly dipping down towards the horizon, and pink and orange coating the sky. Enjolras walked back into a room, holding out a clumsily wrapped present towards Grantaire,“Sorry about the wrapping paper. I’m no good at it,” Enjolras apologized, Grantaire smiling, and reaching out to take the gift. Enjolras and Grantaire’s hands briefly touched, and Grantaire nearly pulled his hand back with a jerk, but managed to control it. And so, with a slightly trembling hand, he received the gift.Merry Christmas!
Relationships: Combeferre & Courfeyrac & Enjolras (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Grantaire & Joly & Bossuet Laigle & Musichetta
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	Grantaire The Abominable Snowman

Grantaire was generally a good gift-giver, if he did say so himself. He knew his friends well, and could usually find them the perfect gifts, in a short amount of time. Three of his friends were more difficult than the others, though. Courfeyrac was a friendly guy, and was always nice to Grantaire, but Grantaire wasn’t close to him, per say. He didn’t really know what Courfeyrac liked, other than social justice. And Grantaire was keen to take a break from social justice, for once. Combeferre seemed to be in his own world, half the time, and he had barely spoken a word to Grantaire since they had met. They had met 6 years ago. Grantaire was almost certain sometimes that he could feel Combeferre’s glare piercing into his back, but when he turned around, Combeferre would be staring in the other direction. Needless to say, he didn’t know much about Combeferre.

  


And Enjolras… Ohhhh boy. The problem there wasn’t that Grantaire didn’t know what Enjolras liked. It was that every time he found the perfect gift for Enjolras, he panicked, and decided that it wasn’t good enough. Nothing was good enough for Apollo, in Grantaire’s opinion. Grantaire had given Enjolras a cat for his birthday, once, and he had seemed to like that, but Grantaire couldn’t just get Enjolras another cat… No, his idea had to be original. And perfect.

  


On the 20th of December, he exchanged gifts with most of his friends. 

  


“Hey, Enjolras!” He exclaimed, hurrying over to the blonde man. He had finally figured out what to give him, and had spent an entire hour the night before making sure it was wrapped perfectly. 

  


“Yes?” Enjolras asked, in a neutral tone. Things between Enjolras and Grantaire actually hadn’t been that bad, as of late. They hadn’t squabbled in at least a month. Combeferre, who was standing at the other end of the Musain, suddenly waved his hand,

“Enjolras, we have to go!” He called, Enjolras giving Grantaire a hesitant half-smile, and a nod,

  


“I’m sorry, Grantaire, I need to go,” He said, 

  


“Wait-” Grantaire began, but Enjolras had already run off to meet Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Grantaire groaned, slumping down into one of the chair in the Musain, Joly, who had witnessed the entire event, walking over, an amused look on his face,

  


“No luck, eh?” He said, patting Grantaire’s shoulder. Grantaire's response was to drop his head down onto the table, and groan. He wished he could disappear into the table for good, sometimes. Joly, a true friend, simply sat next to him, rubbing his back,

  


“You can go deliver it to him tomorrow, in person,” He suggested, Grantaire lifting his head from the table, and blinking,

  


“A-At his apartment?” He asked, Joly rolling his eyes,

  


“Of course, silly. Or… You could maybe invite him to a restaurant… Snuggle up to him there… Hand him the gift at the end… Maybe stand under some mistletoe...” Grantaire socked Joly in the shoulder,

  


“Very funny,” He grumbled, Joly laughing, and grabbing Grantaire’s hand,

  


“C’mon, let’s go home. Get some hot chocolate? Musichetta said she’d make some!” Grantaire nodded, standing up.

  


Hot chocolate sounded good.

  


The next day, Grantaire intended to give the present to Enjolras, but Enjolras had a doctor’s appointment, and Grantaire failed to catch him after it. And then the next day, Grantaire was stuck with a last-minute commission. The day after, Courfeyrac apparently had a panic-attack, and Enjolras and Combeferre refused to leave his side the entire day. Then, it was December 24th. Christmas Eve. He had to get the present to Enjolras now. And the snowstorm that was brewing outside wouldn’t stop him. Musichetta watched him, as he put on his snow boots, and his jacket, clutching Enjolras’ present to his chest, in preparation to set out to the Triumvirate’s apartment. 

  


“You really gonna go out in this storm?” Musichetta questioned, crossing her arms, and leaning back against the wall, “It’s supposed to get real bad. Roads might get blocked.” Grantaire sighed,

  


“Yeah. I’ll be fine,” He replied, staring out the window, the fat drops of snow flying down from the sky and coating the ground, visible through it, “Looks like Bossuet will be getting that white Christmas he wanted,” He commented. Musichetta laughed,

  


“Yep. Take your phone, be safe,” She said, walking out of the room. Grantaire opened the front door, shivering, as a breeze tore through his body,

  


“CLOSE THE DOOR,” Joly shouted from the living room, and Grantaire stepped outside, closing the door behind him. The snow was already nearly up to his ankles. And Grantaire was a large man. There were barely any other people who were stupi- or… Dedicated enough to be walking through the snow at this time, and it was mainly just Grantaire, alone on the street. The cold stung at Grantaire’s ears and nose, and he braved forward, snow sticking to his jacket, and sprinkling onto a few of the black curls that were sticking out from under the green hat he was wearing. 

  


He made it almost halfway towards the Triumvirate’s apartment, before he had to lean against the red brick wall to take a breather, each breath difficult, and the air feeling sharp in his mouth. It was like he was trying to breath while standing in a 5-foot-pool, the water compressing into his chest. He took a couple large gulps of air, before moving forward, a few people giving him strange looks from the windows of their houses. Finally, covered in snow, he made his way to the door of the Triumvirate’s apartment, and he let out a breath of relief, knocking twice on the door. There was a loud,

  


“COMING!” Which sounded like it was from Courfeyrac, and the doorknob twitched, before the door was flung open. It was Courfeyrac, and he blinked at Grantaire, who was covered head to toe in snow. The only thing visible, and not covered by the whiteness, were his eyes. Courfeyrac screamed, and slammed the door,

  


“ABOMINABLE SNOWMAN!” He yelled, and there was more scurrying, and voices, Combeferre finally opening the door again. Grantaire was still there. Still covered in snow. He stared at Combeferre, Combeferre squinting for a second, before realizing who he was,

  


“Oh, oh dear, Grantaire, come in. Enjolras, get a few towels, and set them down in the floor,” Combeferre ordered, Enjolras, who was sitting on the couch, watching some sort of documentary on TV, jumping to his feet, and darting out of the room, coming back within 15 seconds, and dropping several towels down onto the floor, which Grantaire could safely shake the snow off of him onto. Grantaire removed his jacket. The present, which he had tucked underneath it, was still in good condition. Good. 

  


“So,” Combeferre said, leaning against the couch, and crossing his arms, one eyebrow raised. It was a very “Combeferre” position, “What exactly are you here for?” He enquired, Enjolras going to fetch Courfeyrac who had locked himself inside of his room, thinking that the apartment was being invaded by the Abominable Snowman. 

  


“I… Uh… Um,” Grantaire stuttered, “I have a… Er…. Present, for, uh, Enjolras.” Combeferre nodded,

  


“Alright,” He replied, Grantaire handing the present to Combeferre, who placed it under the Christmas tree. The trio’s Christmas tree was a large one, that Courfeyrac had probably picked out, and decorated. He looked over the decorations, smiling slightly. Most of them Courfeyrac had obviously placed on the tree. Grantaire blushed, as he looked closer at one particular ornament. It was a picture of Enjolras and Courfeyrac, both of whom couldn’t be more than two. In the bathtub. Smiling. Grantaire supposed everyone had some sort of ornament like that, that their parent, or Combeferre, in this case, wouldn’t let them destroy. Enjolras, who had reentered the room with Courfeyrac, saw where Grantaire’s attention had landed, and blushed as well, subtly sliding the ornament to the back of the tree, and out of sight. Underneath the tree, was a variety of presents, wrapped in bright wrapping paper. The presents intended for Courfeyrac were wrapped in yellow, Combeferre’s in blue, and Enjolras’ in red. The room was a cheerful sight. 

  


“Grantaire brought a present for you, Enjolras,” Combeferre informed his friend, Enjolras blinking,

  


“Oh, thanks,” He said, “I never got to give you my gift either, uh, hang on a sec,” He ran off, a few crashes heard from his room. Combeferre raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, instead taking a match from a box over the fireplace, and lighting the candles that were sitting on the mantel. It was already beginning to become dark outside, the sun slowly dipping down towards the horizon, and pink and orange coating the sky. Enjolras walked back into a room, holding out a clumsily wrapped present towards Grantaire,

  


“Sorry about the wrapping paper. I’m no good at it,” Enjolras apologized, Grantaire smiling, and reaching out to take the gift. Enjolras and Grantaire’s hands briefly touched, and Grantaire nearly pulled his hand back with a jerk, but managed to control it. And so, with a slightly trembling hand, he received the gift.

  


“I better get going, J, B, and M will start to worry,” Grantaire said, Combeferre frowning, and staring out the sliding glass door,

  


“It’s starting to get dark, and it’s snowing harder than ever. I don’t know if walking out back into that is the safest idea,” He commented, Grantaire sighing,

  


“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” He replied, Courfeyrac suddenly jumping up and down, his hands flitting this way and that.

  


“Ooh, ooh, idea!” He yelled, Enjolras, who was sitting back on the sofa, having turned his documentary back on, speaking up,

  


“That’s never a good thing,” He told Grantaire, Grantaire chuckling, as Courfeyrac continued to talk,

  


“What iffff Grantaire stays here!” He exclaimed. Combeferre shrugged,

  


“If you’re comfortable with it, R.” Combeferre had never called Grantaire “R,” before. It felt like a motion of acceptance, to Grantaire, and he beamed. 

  


“Er, sure,” He replied. Combeferre nodded,

  


“Alright, then, we’ll drive you back tomorrow morning,” Combeferre confirmed. Grantaire gave him a thankful nod, Combeferre cut him off before he could say thank you, “Of course, you’ll need somewhere to sleep. Enjolras’ bed will work,” He said, the slightest hint of a smirk appearing at the edge of his carefully composed face.

  


“WHAT?!” Both Enjolras and Grantaire yelled, Combeferre shrugging,

  


“The couch isn’t comfortable… Besides, Enjolras is little. The both of you will fit the best together,” He said. Enjolras blushed,

  


“Combeferre! Can’t I just sleep on the floor, please?” He begged, Combeferre definitely smirking now,

  


“Oh, no. Tonight will be frigid. I’m sure some shared… Body heat will do you both some good.” Combeferre was evil, Grantaire was sure. Courfeyrac, the traitor, was chuckling. Combeferre frowned, looking at Grantaire, who had started to tremble, still nearly frozen from his escapade through the snow. Combeferre grabbed the throw-blanket from the couch,

  


“There, don’t want you to die of hypothermia,” He said, before leaving the room, going into his own bedroom. Courfeyrac sniggered,

  


“Combeferre needs his alone time during the Christmas season,” He commented. Enjolras gave him a pointed look from where he was sitting,

  


“He needs alone time from you,” He corrected, Courfeyrac rolling his eyes. Grantaire didn’t find this a far-fetched statement. Courfeyrac got rather… Enthusiastic during the Christmas season. And that was an under exaggeration. The second November started, Courfeyrac began coming into the Musain weekly meetings in the most outrageous, brightest, Christmas outfits he could find. Courfeyrac could chatter on for hours about how much he loved Christmas. Though, he could chatter on for hours about just about anything, social justice one of his favorite discussion points. Enjolras could also talk for hours. Grantaire never got tired of hearing his voice. Though he supposed Combeferre might. He couldn’t really blame Combeferre for wanting to hide in his room, occasionally. 

  


“So… Um,” Grantaire wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to do. He was rarely ever in the Triumvirate’s apartment. And this was more than just a visit to friends. This was Enjolras. An angel on Earth. Though, to be fair, Grantaire doubted he could make Enjolras think any less of him than he already did. Enjolras had seen Grantaire at his worst. Grantaire wasn’t sure if Enjolras had a worst. Half the time, Grantaire wasn’t sure if Enjolras was a human. Him being an angel seemed more plausible than him being a mere mortal. 

  


“Sit down?” Courfeyrac offered, Grantaire sitting down next to him, and staring at the documentary on TV. He expected it to be some sort of social justice thing, but no, it was a documentary on opossums. Enjolras seemed quite engaged with it, and Courfeyrac was half paying attention, so Grantaire watched it as well, after texting Joly to tell him where he was. Grantaire liked cute animals. He liked animals in general. Speaking of animals, a familiar brown cat came sauntering out of Enjolras’ room, jumping onto the couch, and into Enjolras’ lap, purring, as Enjolras stroked her head. Mouse. The cat that Grantaire had given Enjolras for his birthday. Mouse looked up at Grantaire, and gave him a chittering noise of acknowledgement, before burying her head into Enjolras’ lap, her purrs growing increasingly louder. Combeferre walked back out of his room, looking at the TV, and standing in front of the couch,

  


“Opossums, hm?” He said, “...Didelphidae… Omnivores…” Courfeyrac simply rolled his eyes, as Combeferre muttered a few more words under his breath. Enjolras stood up on the couch, as a mother opossum carried her baby around on her back on screen. He then bounced up on his toes, Mouse jumping down from his lap, before attaching himself to Combeferre’s back. Combeferre simply smirked,

  


“You an opossum, now?” He asked, looping his arms under his friend’s knees, to more securely hold him. Enjolras, still on Combeferre’s back, leaned his head against Combeferre’s neck,

  


“Mhm,” He replied. Grantaire could scarcely breath. He had never seen Enjolras act like anything other than the god Grantaire was certain he was. He could never have imagined Enjolras doing something as basic as jumping onto his best friend’s back. Combeferre eventually put Enjolras down,

  


“I’ve got the fix dinner,” He explained. Grantaire shot up. Cooking. That was one thing he could do. And he could it well,

  


“I can help!” He volunteered, Combeferre frowning, before nodding,

  


“Alright,” He agreed. Grantaire would occasionally bring in the treats he would bake at home for fun to the Les Amis meetings. He had done so three weeks ago, when he had made more cinnamon rolls than he could possibly eat. Therefore, his cooking was most likely trustworthy. Grantaire didn’t blame Combeferre for being slightly hesitant. With people like Bahorel, Enjolras, and Marius in the group, the three of which’s cooking abilities were comparable to the abilities of those of a rock, one couldn’t help but be careful. Grantaire followed Combeferre into the kitchen, both men staring at each other for a moment. This was the first time they’d ever been alone in a room together. Combeferre turned towards Grantaire, simply saying this,

  


“You hurt him, you die.” Grantaire blinked,

  


“...What?” He said in response. Was Combeferre secretly some sort of serial killer?! Combeferre scoffed,

  


“Enjolras, of course. I know you like him, Grantaire. I wouldn’t mind if the two of you dated. If it did come to that, though, you would be having a… Chat, with Courfeyrac and I,” He warned. It made sense to Grantaire now. So that’s why Jehan, Courfeyrac’s partner, had come out of a meeting with Enjolras and Combeferre looking extremely pale a few months ago. One part of that didn't make sense, however,

  


“Enjolras doesn’t even like me,” He said, Combeferre simply smiling,

  


“Enjolras is having trouble sorting out his feelings,” He said in response, “Now, pass me the rolls in the container in the fridge.” About an hour later, Courfeyrac and Enjolras began to set the table, Enjolras poking at the fire in the fireplace with a stick once he was done, until Combeferre scolded him. Dinner was simple, and everyone ate quickly, Grantaire especially. It was a little bit awkward at first, but Courfeyrac started debating with Enjolras over whether dogs or cats were better, and things felt like normal again.

  


It was completely dark, and later, Combeferre grabbed Enjolras’ hand, beckoning everyone out to the balcony of the apartment, which wasn’t covered in snow, as the roof overhang prevented the snow from reaching it. From the balcony, the rest of their town was visible. As the sky had now entirely darkened, the Christmas lights from people’s houses were now the only source of light. The snow had temporarily stopped. 

  


“Wow,” Courfeyrac breathed out, his breath causing a puff of visible air due to the frigid temperature.

  


“It’s beautiful,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire and Enjolras’ eyes met. For a split second, Grantaire thought time stood still, as Enjolras’ piercing blue gaze met Grantaire’s brown. Then, Enjolras looked away, instead focusing his attention on a bunny, who was traipsing through the snow, apparently either unaffected by it, or all around uncaring about it’s fuzzy brown feet, which Grantaire was certain were freezing. Courfeyrac, who was leaning over the railing, looked down at the snow below,

  


“I wonder what would happen if I jumped down and landed in the snow!” He exclaimed, Combeferre raising an eyebrow, and pulling Courfeyrac away from the railing,

  


“Alright, time to go back inside,” He declared, as the snow had started to pick up again, the flakes cold and icy against Grantaire’s skin. And Courfeyrac was starting to consider potentially lethal actions.

  


“I’m turning in,” Combeferre said, as they walked back inside, “And I suggest the rest of you do soon, if you want to get a good night’s sleep before Christmas.” Courfeyrac bounced over to his room,

  


“I’m going to as well! Though I’ll get barely any sleep anyways, I’m so EXCITED!” Enjolras grinned. Actually grinned,

  


“You’re always excited, Courf. And you’re not waking the rest of us up at five, tomorrow, by the way,” He warned. Courfeyrac simply grinning back in response, and disappearing into his room. Leaving Enjolras and Grantaire alone together. There was still some tension between them, crackling like the fire in the fireplace. They were both so… Different. One politically optimistic, one politically pessimistic. One a “success”, one a “failure.” One beautiful, one ugly. They were like day and night. 

  


Enjolras let out a long breath, which clouded the glass sliding-screen door to the balcony in front of him. He traced his finger along the edges of the middle of the sliding screen door,

  


“I can’t help thinking of those less fortunate than myself right now, you know?” Enjolras murmured, Grantaire giving him a hesitant smile,

  


“That seems to be the way you were wired, Apollo.” Enjolras’ gaze snapped in his direction,

  


“Don’t call me that. I’m no different than any other person! We’re all the same, we’re all people, when it boils down to it. And yet some of us have decided that we’re better. Some of us oppress and tortue other fucking human beings, who laugh and cry like they do, who hug their children and parents. It’s just not right! There are some children without beds to sleep in right now. And we have everything here. How is this fair?! Who decided this?!” Enjolras’ voice cracked at the end, and before Grantaire knew what he was doing, he slipped his hand into the love of his life’s, forcing all of the negative statements, and arguments he could come up with to rile Enjolras up to the bottom of his brain,

  


“You know… My main theory is that all people on Earth are born evil. That we’re all doomed to fail. And to a degree, that’s right. We’re all going to fail sometimes. But -” Grantaire stroked his thumb over Enjolras’ pale hand, “ - I look at you, and everyday I remember that there’s good in this world. You are doing so much to try and fix what other people have caused, Enjolras. You have so much empathy… I-it shocks me. We can’t fix the entire world. But you do so much where you can. You’re so.. Special. You are an angel. An Apollo,” Grantaire whispered. Enjolras stared at him for a second, and for a few moments, the only sounds were the two’s heavy breathing, before Enjolras took Grantaire’s other hand, holding both of them to his heart. Another few moments passed, before Enjolras dropped them, blushing furiously,

  


“Uh, we should go to bed. Specially’ if Courfeyrac’s going to wake us up as 5:00. And I’m almost certain he will,” He said, Grantaire nodding. Enjolras’ bedroom had a political poster on every section of his wall, not surprising Grantaire in the slightest. His bed was covered in red. Red pillows, red blankets, red mattress sheet. The only thing that wasn’t entirely red was the red, white, and blue blanket that resembled a French flag. Grantaire’s face was now red as well,

  


“So, uh… You like red?” He muttered, Enjolras nodding,

  


“Yep,” He said, before removing his shirt. Okay, Grantaire wasn’t entirely expecting that. Enjolras simply shrugged,

  


“Changing into pajamas,” He explained, pulling out a, of course, red, pajama shirt from his dresser drawer. Grantaire went into the bathroom to change. And now, here he was. Sharing a bed with Enjolras. ENJOLRAS. Needless to say, he was internally panicking. Enjolras, exhausted, as there were always shadows under his eyes, quickly fell asleep. Grantaire, who suffered from insomnia, was still awake. They were at opposite sides of the bed, Grantaire curled in one corner, and Enjolras in the other. That wasn’t so bad. But of course, Enjolras moved in his dang sleep. Grantaire wasn’t surprised, as he almost never saw the man sit completely still, instead bouncing his leg, or fiddling around with an eraser. 

  


Enjolras rolled over in his sleep, his blonde curls still looking ethereal to Grantaire, even as they were pressed down onto a red pillow. And then, suddenly, there was another body pressed into Grantaire’s. Grantaire could barely breathe, as Enjolras snuggled into his chest, letting out a few tiny sniffs, and shifting in his sleep, his fists gripping onto Grantaire’s shirt. Jesus Christ. Grantaire was convinced that he hadn’t walked through the door to the Triumvirate’s apartment today. No, he must have stepped right through the gates of heaven. And, with his body pressed against Enjolras’, he fell into a peaceful sleep. It had been a long time since he had slept in the same bed as someone else. He and Eponine used to in highschool, when Eponine would flee her house for a day or two with her siblings, and come to crash at Grantaire’s parents place. After Eponine had removed herself and her brother and sister from her former home, however, she no longer had a need to sleep over at Grantaire’s. And that had been that. Grantaire loved the feeling of another life form snuggled into him. He was a very tactile person in general. The peacefulness came to end all to soon, as at exactly 5:00 am, Courfeyrac came barreling into the room,

  


“WAKE UP, WAKE UP, IT’S CHRISTMAS!” He screamed, shaking Enjolras, who promptly fell off of the bed with a cry. Grantaire blinked groggily, rubbing at his eyes. Early morning sunlight poured through the window in Enjolras’ bedroom, casting everything it could reach in a fuzzy golden light, some of it stretching out to greet Grantaire’s hands. Combeferre walked into the room a few seconds later, yawning, and grabbed Enjolras’ hand, pulling him up from the floor, before turning to Courfeyrac,

  


“What did we say about waking us up at 5:00?” Combeferre questioned, Courfeyrac sighing,

  


“Sorrrry, I just couldn’t wait!” Courfeyrac enthused, jumping up and down. Combeferre broke into a warm smile,

  


“Alright, c’mon Courf, I’ll go get breakfast started,” He said, Courfeyrac bouncing out of the room with a loud,

  


“YAY!” Courfeyrac and Combeferre had now exited the room, leaving Enjolras and Grantaire alone. For the millionth time in the past two days. Enjolras stared at the window. It was still snowing. Hard,

  


“Yikes,” He observed, Grantaire sighing. He didn’t want to go out in that. He would have to, he knew, if he had any chance of sharing Christmas with Musichetta, Bossuet, and Joly. Yay… Enjolras, who had already rapidly put on his clothes, was hurriedly brushing his hair, the tugging sounds the hairbrush made making Grantaire wince,

  


“Hey, slow down,” Grantaire said, gently tugging the brush away from Enjolras, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you just pulled out a chunk of hair.” Excitement shone in Enjolras’ eyes. Not as intense as the look he got when he made a speech about social justice, but close to it. Grantaire smirked, “Someone’s excited,” He commented, Enjolras smiling,

  


“I love Christmas. I get to spend the day with Courf and Ferre, and usually we talk about social justice stuff before turning on a movie, and falling asleep. It’s great,” He said. Grantaire nodded. That did sound great. He didn’t have any clothes to change into that were his own, but thankfully Courfeyrac had a few things that fit him, even if they were a tad of a squeeze. The two made their way outside, eating a quick breakfast with Combeferre and Courfeyrac, before Grantaire stood up,

  


“I’ve really ought to be going,” He said, Combeferre looking out the window and sighing,

  


“You’ll freeze if you try to walk through this,” He warned, Grantaire sighing once more,

  


“I know…” Before he was about to grab his hat from the coat stand, and risk freezing to death, Enjolras stopped him, grabbing his arm,

  


“R, you can stay here, I’m sure J, B, and M will understand,” He offered. It was tempting, and Grantaire wasn’t sure what to do.

  


“C’monnn Grantaire, I don’t want you to die in the snow, you’re my frienddddd!” Courfeyrac came in. And Grantaire pulled out his phone to text Joly. Courfeyrac jumped to his feet, as he had previously been sitting in a chair at the kitchen table, “Now that’s settled, can we open presents Ferre, pleassssse?” He asked, Combeferre shrugging,

  


“I suppose so,” He replied, Courfeyrac pumping his fist in the air with a, “YES!” The Triumvirate obviously didn’t get each other a lot of presents, and most of their gifts were rather small, but with the Triumvirate, it’s the little stuff that counted. Thought mattered more than size or amount. 

  


Enjolras and Courfeyrac sat squished into each other on the couch, despite there being enough space for them to spread out. Combeferre sat in the floor, and Grantaire stood in the corner, staring at the gift he had gotten Enjolras. What had brought him here in the first place. 

  


“Sooo,” Courfeyrac said, “Ferre, look at this.” He pulled one of Combeferre’s shirts out from underneath a blanket. There was a place that might have once been a hole, but it was now neatly stitched together,

  


“Ta-da,” Enjolras said, “Courf and I learned how to sew. And we fixed all of the holes in your clothing.” Combeferre amusedly raised an eyebrow, Courfeyrac cutting in, and throwing the shirt at Combeferre,

  


“You better appreciate this, we spent 6 months trying to figure sewing out, Thank God for Cosette’s patience,” He said, Combeferre laughing,

  


“Thank you, both of you. This will certainly come in handy.” Combeferre unwrapped his other present, which turned out to be a huge box of gummy bears. Where Enjolras and COurfeyrac had found that was beyond Grantaire… 

  


Courfeyrac ended up with dinosaur pajamas, a chocolate bar, and a flashlight, for whatever reason. Grantaire guessed it was an inside joke, as the Triumvirate all began hysterically laughing as Courfeyrac lifted the flashlight from the wrapping paper, much to Grantaire’s bewilderment. And then Enjolras… Enjolras ended up with noise-canceling headphones, a donation to the local pride organization, and a stuffed animal tiger? Courfeyrac held the stuffed tiger out to Enjolras,

  


“Sorry my ferret… Ate Fuzzy. Here’s a Fuzzy Jr,” He offered, Enjolras hugging him, giving thanks, before smirking, and saying,

  


“You and your ferret are still not out of the doghouse just yet. Fuzzy will be avenged,” And then he cuddled Fuzzy Jr. to his chest, in a way that made Grantaire’s heart melt. There was one present left out under the tree. Grantaire’s. Grantaire gulped, as Enjolras took it, and slowly opened it, revealing both a painting, and a pair of fluffy red socks,

  


“Because you said your feet are always cold, a few weeks ago,” Grantaire quickly exclaimed, Enjolras smiling at him, and looking down at the portrait. It was bright, and positive, the opposite of what Grantaire usually drew. In bold letters, it read, “NEVER STOP FIGHTING,” And it showed Enjolras, surrounded by flames, with angel wings. Grantaire had spent weeks working on it. Perfecting it. Enjolras grinned, and walked over, hugging Grantaire. Hugging him,

  


“Thank you,” Enjolras whispered into his ear, Grantaire to shocked to even move,

  


“Pst, hug back,” Courfeyrac advised, and Grantaire did. For a few seconds everything was perfect. Then, Enjolras held out the gift from last night to him. Grantaire, with a trembling hand took it, unwrapping it carefully. A candy cane. And a single sheet of paper. Grantaire squinted at the words written on it.

  


Will you go out with me?

  


Grantaire heart thudded inside his chest, and he gave Enjolras a disbelieving look,

  


“You… You really,” He stammered, Enjolras giving him a single nod in response, both of their eyes glittering with emotion. All of the sudden, they both looked up, to see mistletoe hanging down from a stick, the other end of which, Courfeyrac, who was still on the couch, was holding.

  


“I knew my mistletoe-on-a-stick would come in handy!” Courfeyrac cheered, before Grantaire and Enjolras pressed their lips together, engaging in a passionate kiss. Courfeyrac whooped, and Combeferre gave them both a warm look, readjusting his glasses. It was then, there was a knock on the door.

  


“I’ll get it!” Courfeyrac volunteered, rushing towards the door, and opening it. There were Musichetta, Bossuet, and Joly, covered head-to-foot in snow. Courfeyrac screamed, “ABOMINABLE SNOWMEN!” He yelled, running into his bedroom, and locking the door. Combeferre ran over to their friends,

  


“How did you get through the snow?!” He exclaimed, Musichetta grinning,

  


“A little luck, and a whole lotta willpower,” She replied,

  


“And possible frostbite!” Joly nervously added, “I can already feel my toes turning black!” 

  


“Why are you here?” Combeferre asked,

  


“It just isn’t a true Christmas for us without Grantaire,” Bossuet said, Grantaire running over to hug his friend. There, with his friends, making eye contact, actual eye-contact, with the love of his life, who was now his boyfriend, Grantaire felt content.

  


And inside his room, thinking that Abominable Snowmen were attacking the apartment for the second time that day, Courfeyrac did not.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all had a wonderful Christmas!
> 
> I got a lava lamp, and I spent an entire hour just staring at it. It looks cool.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please review!
> 
> I'm working on a few requests from an anon rn. They should be posted soon.


End file.
